


The Wardrobe Menace

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Forever [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: whoopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:08:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you think you’ve got problems, you should see my dress! It looks fabulous on the outside, but I can barely breathe! So move it!”</p><p>“So demanding.” Thranduil mutters, freeing himself from his robes.</p><p>“Ten!”</p><p>“Ten?” Thranduil exclaims. “What does that mean?!”</p><p>“Nine.”</p><p>“It means put your clothes on or Sig is gonna drag you out in nine seconds.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wardrobe Menace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Barduilweek, bonus theme: Wardrobe Menace

“This wardrobe is a menace.” Thranduil whines, fussing with the train of his robe.

“It’s _your_ wardrobe!” Bard exclaims, exasperated. He’s been waiting for Thranduil to finish getting dressed for three hours now, the wedding is in fifteen minutes. Even Sigrid is complaining that Thran is taking too long, and _she’s_ the _bride_.

“I have to look fabulous!”

“No, you don’t! Today is Sigrid’s day, Thran. The only person who needs to look fabulous is Sigrid, and she always looks fabulous.”

“What?” Thranduil exclaims incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me before?!”

“I thought you’d realize that no one but the bride is meant to look glamorous? And the groom is meant to look handsome. And they’re both meant to look beautiful and everyone else is kind of just supposed to… just… _be_ _there._ ”

“Well, I didn’t realize! How was I meant to know this? It’s a human wedding!”

“Thran! _We_ had a human wedding!”

“Yeah, so?”

“Thran!” Bard exclaims, shaking his head. “Get out of that ridiculous robe. Go and put on your black shiny one!”

“But-“

“Do as he says, ada, or you can go nude!!” Sigrid yells from outside the door. “Legolas is getting cold feet. So we’re moving this along.”

“What?”

“If you think you’ve got problems, you should see my dress! It looks fabulous on the outside, but I can barely breathe! So move it!”

“So demanding.” Thranduil mutters, freeing himself from his robes.

“Ten!”

“Ten?” Thranduil exclaims. “What does that mean?!”

“Nine.”

“It means put your clothes on or Sig is gonna drag you out in nine seconds.”

“Eight.”

Thranduil gives a very unelfly shriek and dives back into his wardrobe.

“Seven.”

“Oh, I’m going already!” he yells back, frustrated.

“Six.”

“Sigrid!”

“Five.”

**_“Sigrid!”_ **

“Four.”

“Stop it.”

“Three.”

Thranduil swears loudly in elvish, while Bard watches the proceedings, laughing quietly to himself.

“Two.”

“Ohh, Thran, I’m telling Dain you said that!” Bard teases at the Khuzdul expletive he manages to catch.

“One.”

“I’m dressed!!” Thranduil exclaims, breathless as he appears in front of Bard once more. His shimmery black robes looking immaculate, much like his hair. “I’m dressed.” Thranduil says again.

“Good! Move it! I’ve got to go and help Tilda. She’s misplaced the rings! Gosh, it’s almost like this is a real wedding. So many things going not perfectly. Ahh.”

“It _is_ a real wedding!” Bard yells as he hears Sigrid’s footsteps heading away from them.

“Let’s go, before she comes back and threatens us with numbers again.” Thranduil says, sounding mildly terrified. Bard laughs and grabs Thranduil’s hand, pulling him along.

“You big baby.”

“She was counting down, Bard!”

“Come on, tuil nin.” Bard says, lightly patting Thranduil’s hand as he guides him from the room.

“Counting!”

“Maybe you should have worn something sensible in the first place.”

“Sensible is boring.”

“Sensible means you don’t get counting.”

“Sensible is the _greatest!”_

“That’s what I thought.


End file.
